


Christmas

by VentoSereno



Series: Vignettes [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-22 03:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13755618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VentoSereno/pseuds/VentoSereno
Summary: Christmas. Tonks V Remus.





	1. Christmas Day

She walks into the Hog's Head very late on Christmas Day. She really ought to have spent the night at her parents' house. She knows that. She's been desperate to get away from Hogsmeade - from her dreary room at the Hog's Head, the mindlessness of the shifts, the seemingly endless winter. 

And yet as soon as she's away, she's haunted by the idea that if he were to come back, and look for her, only to find her gone…Well, the thought is intolerable, and it drives her back here, every time she tries to get away. 

Tonight it's particularly ridiculous, because for once she knows where he is. At the Burrow. And if she's so desperate to see him, well, she could've just joined him there.

But she's glad she hadn't, in the end. She'd enjoyed her day with her family, even if she'd only decided to go at the last minute. It would have been ridiculous to pine away the day on her own. 

Thankfully, her parents had decided that Christmas Day was no time to be hassling their daughter as to why her hair was so lifeless, why she had lost so much weight, why she was always so down. They'd put their worried expressions and their nagging aside, and had thrown themselves into the spirit of the season. 

She should've stayed.

 _I can still go back,_ she thinks. Just a quick recce round the Hog's Head, a word with Aberforth, to settle it in her own mind that Remus wasn't there, and that he was unlikely to come, so that she could go home with her mind at ease. 

So of course, as soon as she walks in, her eyes cross the bar and fall upon him.

* * *

She'd imagined this moment so many times, that now it's actually happening, it doesn't feel real. 

For a start, she's not wearing any of the glamorous things she had envisaged for this moment. Instead she's donning her newest Christmas jumper from Molly, under an old but cosy cloak. And her hair - well, the less said about that, the better. 

And she's not running across the room to throw herself into his arms. In fact, she feels such a jumble of emotions, it freezes her. She stays very still, watching him, just to make sure he's not some trick of her frenzied imagination. 

He smiles her, uncertainly. He looks worn, and tired, and haggard, but not as bad as she had feared.

She decides on instinct to stick to her plan. She heads over to Aberforth, wishes him a Merry Christmas and a good night, then heads up the stairs to her room. If Remus is here to see her, which he undoubtedly is, he will follow.

Tonks feels his presence behind her before hearing his tread on the stair. She doesn't allow herself to turn, but continues to her room calmly, as if her heart isn't running a 100-metre dash in her chest, as if his presence hasn't completely thrown her off kilter. 

Unlocking her door, she still won't allow herself to turn. After all this time, she's almost afraid to face him. Afraid of what he might say, of what she might do. Of how much worse she might feel after seeing him again. 

Or maybe she's just afraid that if she turns around he will no longer be there. 

Tonks lets them into her room. She buys herself more time by turning her bedside lamp on, lighting the fire with a flick of her wand. But she's out of excuses now. She's got to look at him again. 

She finds his eyes boring into her, hungrily, taking in her new appearance. She forces herself to meet his gaze defiantly. 

"Hello, Tonks. Merry Christmas." 

_So. She's back to being Tonks, then._

"'Lo. Merry Christmas to you." 

There's a wall between them again. It makes her want to cry.

Where does one begin after six months apart? The last time they'd been together, she thought she'd managed a breakthrough. But after that - not one word from him. Just silence, and worrying, and not knowing if he were dead or alive. 

On top of that, the loss of her morphing ability, the change in her patronus - all of it making her feel like her life has spun out of control.

She's angry. Angry, and hurt.

She busies herself around her room. Hangs up their cloaks, puts some tea on. He sits awkwardly on a chair in front of the fire. His eyes never leave her. 

"I came…Molly wanted me to bring you some mince pies." he finishes, lamely. As if that's the real reason he's here. She knows this but it still makes her angry. She snaps before she can stop herself. "I see. You only came because Molly sent you?"

"No…" he's caught off guard by her anger. 

She takes the mince pies from him and chucks them unceremoniously into a corner of the room. She hates mince pies. 

"Tonks, I…"

She waits. She can't sit down, there's so much nervous energy flowing through her. She wills him to speak, to say something that fixes it, that fixes all of it.

"I just wanted to come and see you. Molly seemed to think you were going to spend Christmas alone."

"Right."

Another silence. She's getting seriously annoyed now. What's he thinking, turning up like this and not SAYING anything?

"I'm glad to see that wasn't the case. Did you spend the day with your parents?"

Her anger snaps. "What's it to you?"

She was going to leave it there, but now that she's vented some of her frustration, more of it comes spilling out, uncontrollably.

"Actually, whilst we're discussing recent movements, exactly where in the hell have _you_ been these last six months? Did it ever occur to you that I might be _glad_ to hear that you were, say, alive and well?"

He sighs and pushes the hair out of his eyes in such a defeated way she almost feels guilty for a moment. But only for a moment.

"Tonks, I'm sorry, but I explained before I left - that there would be no daily updates, no opportunities to get away..."

"Oh, right. I must've imagine all those reports filed to Dumbledore, month after month? Would it have killed you to add a note in there for me? A word?"

"I didn't think…"

"No, you wouldn't, would you, because ultimately it's all about you, isn't it? What Remus wants, and what Remus feels, and everyone else can go hang, can't they?"

"Tonks, I thought I'd been clear…"

"Oh yes, you were very clear. First you tell me you won't even consider a relationship with me, no matter what I might think or feel. Then you turn up at my house and kiss me senseless. Then you disappear off the face of the earth for six months!"

He winces at her words. 

"You're right. My behaviour the night I left was unforgivable. I'm sorry. You don't know how I've tortured myself about it."

He crosses the room, picks up his cloak, and makes to leave. 

"And I'm sorry I showed up like this tonight. I'll go."

She groans in exasperation. "No, you _idiot_. Why is that what you're sorry for? I'm furious because you left me for six months with no word. Not because you kissed me. Not because you came here tonight. Why can't you understand that?"

He'd turned to hear her out but now he shrugs, in that dejected way, and mutters he's sorry again. He heads out of the door and down the stairs. She doesn't stop him.


	2. Boxing Day

On Boxing Day, as she's picking up the bastard mince pies off the floor, she realises that underneath the package is a piece of parchment. And a small, carefully wrapped present.

Her heart hammers painfully as she throws the mince pies away distractedly, and sits down to turn over the unexpected find in her hands.

She unfolds the parchment first.

_"Dear Tonks,_

_Merry Christmas._

_All my love,_

_Remus"_

She is both elated and disappointed by his sparse message. She sits and re-reads it for a long time, hoping to discover more words, more meaning.

Eventually, she turns to her gift. 

It's a carefully wrapped box. It's about the size of jewellery box a ring might come in, and for a second, her heart is in her mouth.

It's a necklace. Of black velvet lace and an opal stone pendant. As she turns it this way and that, it catches the rays of weak sunlight coming in from the window, and colours dance before her eyes.

She holds the parchment and the necklace and stares out of the window for a long time.


	3. That indeterminate time between Christmas and New Year's Eve

She loiters outside Dumbledore's office. She knows Remus won't go back to the camp without seeing him. And she can't let him leave with things as they are. 

She's wearing the necklace he gave her, carefully tucked under her robes. She hasn't taken it off since finding it. 

Finally, he comes out. He looks set to leave again. His worn travelling cloak is around his shoulders, and he's carrying his old, battered briefcase. He looks surprised to see her, but not displeased. Guarded. 

She walks straight up to him, and states simply "I owe you a drink before you go." He shakes his head "You don't owe me anything…" but she cuts him off. "Don't start arguing with me again, Remus Lupin. Me, you, two butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks. It's happening. Now."

He smiles at her then, and comes willingly.

* * *

_Going to the pub was a good idea_ , she thinks. It forces the two of them to have a normal-ish conversation, and it precludes arguing, snogging or any other more passionate behaviours. 

They avoid difficult topics, and they mostly talk about her, what her life in Hogsmeade has been like, what her duties entail. She catches him up on news she thinks may have passed him by. 

Eventually, the butterbeers have been drunk, and it's getting dark outside. It looks set to snow again. They've talked all afternoon but they've said nothing to one another. 

"I'll walk you home" says Remus.

She rolls her eyes at him. "I'm an Auror. I live around the corner. You're bedding down with a werewolf pack, for goodness' sake!" 

"By all means, why don't you shout it from the rooftops? And anyway, I can't help it if I'm old-fashioned."

"Just plain old, more like. And daft."

But he still helps her into her cloak and offers her his arm as they step out into the cold, and really, she loves him for it. Their walk back to the Hog's Head takes less than three minutes, despite her best attempts at dawdling past shop windows.

"You'd better walk me up to my room. I might be attacked by a rampant goat."

"I thought you said my walking you home was daft? Anyway, you'll be fine from here. I'm not sure I'm brave enough to come into the inner sanctum again, not after last time." He tries a tentative smile.

"You deserved it. But I suppose I shouldn't have chased you away like that. Not when you'd come to see me on Christmas Day. And with such a lovely gift."

He smiles ruefully. "Don't be sorry, I deserved it. But it's certainly had the desired effect of softening you up."

She pokes him in the ribs, which feel painfully close to the surface of his skin. "Consider me softened. Now come upstairs. I have something for you."


	4. That indeterminate time between Christmas and New Year's Eve - Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, give me that sweet angst

He unfolds it, and reverently runs the soft, dark material over his hands. She beams at him. It's beautiful. A new travelling cloak, soft, but warm and thick too. Exactly what he needs. He's so touched by her thoughtfulness he almost feels overcome with emotion.

He coughs to clear his throat before he can trust his voice enough to thank her. 

She smiles at him again. She's wearing the necklace he'd bought her, the necklace he'd spent his precious little money on. But it had been worth every single knut. It looks perfect on her, and she has assured him she loves it. And that she hasn't taken it off since finding it. 

Suddenly, guilt grips his insides. He's got to stop sending her mixed messages. Like telling her she ought to find someone else, and then buying her jewellery she'll never take off. Or like kissing her senseless, and then disappearing for six months. No wonder he's hurt her feelings so badly. 

He desperately wants to kiss her now. 

In the run up to Christmas, he'd promised himself that he wouldn't go anywhere near Nymphadora Tonks. That he would avoid her like the plague. What he can't understand is how he'd found himself standing outside the Hog's Head a mere forty-eight hours after he'd arrived at the Burrow. 

In fact, he ought to leave now. But there are questions he'd desperately like answers to, even though he's afraid of rocking the boat, especially after their nice afternoon, where they'd both danced around the things they'd really wanted to say. 

"Tonks…" he begins uncertainly, which immediately alerts her to the shift in gear. 

"Oh Merlin. I feel a serious conversation coming on."

"We haven't talked about…" he makes a gesture to mean everything. He's unsure how to proceed, where to begin. He doesn't want to sound presumptuous, assuming a role where he doesn't have one. 

She looks sad, which is the last thing he wants. 

"My hair?" she mirrors his gesture. "I look terrible. I know."

Something painful wells in his heart, because he can't bear to see her sad, or listen to her doing herself down. 

"You're as beautiful now as you ever were. Even if you're not as flamboyantly colourful. In fact, I can now look at you without needing sunglasses. One might argue it's an improvement." He thinks perhaps he's taken his joke a little too far but she smiles widely. 

_He's the first person that's managed to both compliment and poke fun at her at the same time, and not make her feel like she was being pitied. Trust him to know exactly the right thing to say, when she hadn't even known herself._

"I think you miss my pink hair almost as much as I do. Even though you pretend to be old-fashioned." She runs a hand through the lanky, brown locks, as if she could rub colour back into it through sheer force of will. Which, in her desperation, she has actually tried to do. 

"Will you tell me about it?" he asks. She sighs, and opens up about how it makes her feel like she's not herself, when she looks in the mirror of a morning she doesn't recognise the shadow of herself staring back. And yes, it's happened before, in the run up to exams, and in other stressful or difficult situations, but never for this long or so completely. 

He nods, not interrupting, not saying anything. Just listening.

"And yes, it is because I love you and you left. In case you were wondering."

He nods again, feeling like the worst person in the world. He takes her hand, squeezes it, and tells her how sorry he is.

She starts to explain to him that she could get her colours back tomorrow, if he would only let her love him, but he shakes his head, sadly. 

"If let you throw away your life on me, you might be so unhappy your colours never come back. Then I would never forgive myself."

She looks set to argue, so he goes on to say about how it's only temporary, and her powers will come back, she'll get better. He doesn't know if he's saying it to reassure her, or himself.

She now looks more unhappy than when their conversation started. Talking only ever seems to make things more complicated between them. But he may not get another chance to ask…

"Harry mentioned something about your patronus…"

She hadn't expected this, and looks up at him, surprised. She sighs, closes her eyes briefly, then nods. "Yup. Changed into a wolf just after you left." Then, somewhat defensively "I haven't done any of this on purpose, you know."

He nods and strokes her hand, which is still in his. He wonders how many apologies it would take to make this right. 

Suddenly, she pulls her hand out of his grasp. "But nothing's changed for you, has it?"

The sudden change in tack catches him off guard. "Pardon?"

"Well it hasn't. Here I am, pathetically heartbroken, for all to see, and you're cool as cucumber. You just don't give a damn, do you?"

He thinks that he ought to let her believe this. It would make things more painful at first, but far easier in the long-term. If he loves her, he'll lie to her, and lie to her well, so she can move on.

But he doesn't.

"Dora..." 

_There's that nickname again, and it makes heat radiate up her neck to her cheeks._

"Do you really think you're the only one who's miserable? I miss you all the time. You're my first thought when I open my eyes, my last thought when I close them. The thought of kissing you keeps me up at night. You haunt my days as well as my nights." 

"If I didn't love you, I would throw caution to the wind now, and bind you to me in a life that could isolate you from your own family, make you a social pariah. You could lose your job, your friends, your family. But I can't do that to you. I won't do that to you."

She's listened to him, stunned by his outburst, without interrupting. She doesn't move, apart from brushing a tear away from her cheek. He brushes away another, tells her not to cry. That he loves her like crazy, that's not the issue. That they can't be together, and it hurts now, but she'll find someone else, someone infinitely better.

She gets up, not entirely sure what she's doing, just knowing that she needs to be closer to him. She sits on his lap and before he can say anything, she kisses him. He doesn't resist, though he knows he ought to.


	5. That indeterminate time between Christmas and New Year's Eve - Later still

He thinks he may have been ably manipulated into this situation. 

He's lying fully clothed on her bed at the Hog's Head, his new travelling cloak wrapped around them both. She's sound asleep, her head pillowed on his chest. He's running his hand through her hair, and contemplating Nymphadora.

He had meant to travel back to the camp today. In fact, he'd meant not to see her _at all._

He had _tried_ to leave. He'd definitely thought very hard about it, but it was difficult to concentrate when he was kissing her, because his mind had a tendency to go totally blank as all the blood in his body travelled south. Eventually they'd broken apart for air, and he'd dimly remembered they weren't supposed to be doing this. He'd thought about heading for the door then, but she'd taken him by the hand and lead him to the bed and that had been the more enticing option, to be frank. 

So here he is. And he can't move now. She looks so comfortable, he'd be loath to disturb her. And he feels so peaceful. He'll go in the morning. He'll definitely go in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an interlude soon.


End file.
